


The Scarf

by xenowhore



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Comfort, Explicit Language, Infant Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenowhore/pseuds/xenowhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slit shook his head. “Gonna be a Lancer, this one.” he said, his sudden grin pulling the staples in his cheek tight. </p>
<p>“Nah. Looks like a Driver to me.” Nux had shot back with a grin of his own, and Slit snorted, his thick blunt fingers gently running over the pup’s tiny skull, downy with peach fuzz. “Too chrome for a driver. Look,” and he’d grinned even wider when the pup latched onto a finger and squeezed. “little guy needs a shave already.”</p>
<p>Slit takes care of his first war pup. This is the story of how he got his scarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scarf

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY. That's really all that needs to be said here.
> 
> (I have so, so many feelings about Slit and war pups.)

Nux hears the footsteps racing toward the repair bay over the sound of his welding torch. They are heavy and fast, frantic. He pulls the mask off his face and stands up from his squat, wiping the sweat off his brow, wondering what the commotion is.

Piston is standing in the doorway of the bay, leaning forward with his hands braced on his knees. He’s breathing hard and sweating, the single line of war paint down the middle of his face smudged from his exertions.

“Nux, you gotta come,” he pauses to catch his breath. Nux switches his torch off and drops it at his feet. He can hear the desperation in Piston’s voice and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Piston, what’s wrong?” he asks, stepping forward.

“It’s Slit.” Piston says, and the ground feels like it’s opening up under Nux. “It’s...it’s bad.”

Nux doesn’t care what’s happening. He doesn’t wait for Piston to give him more details - he knows. He simply vaults over the roof of the car he’s working on and takes off running down the corridor, his lean arms and legs pumping furiously as he rounds corners and dodges other war boys. A single word chants through his thoughts like a mantra - _Slit, Slit, Slit_ \- and he wills his body to be as fast as a V8.

It has to be Roscoe, Slit’s pup. Nux can feel this as surely as he can feel his boots slapping against the stone as he races through Citadel. This was what they’d been preparing themselves for. Well, what Nux had been preparing for - Slit had been the very picture of denial during the last few weeks. Nux remembered the look on Slit’s face on Choosing Day when the Kennel Master had shrugged and told him “not to bother with a runt”. No point in trying to rear a pup who couldn’t even latch proper, and besides, didn’t he want to make an investment?

_“This one’s a scream machine. Just cries all day. Ain’t gonna make it a month.” the Kennel Master said, holding the squalling pup in his arms with a distasteful expression. “Somethin’ wrong with it.”_

_It was Slit’s first pup. He’d been uncharacteristically excited all morning, impatient with Nux on patrol, eager to park the coupe in the bay and hurry down to the kennels. War boys with wriggling masses wrapped in slings passed them, their faces a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Nux had been on pup duty once before. He remembered cautioning Slit on becoming too attached, something he knew was inevitable when he watched his lancer take the squalling pup from the Kennel Master’s arms, cradling him as though he were made of glass._

_The pup was red faced, his tiny arms and legs flailing as he wailed his anger to the world, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. Slit shifted him carefully in his arms, leaning back slightly as he pressed him against the warm skin of his chest. Nux watched as the pup’s eyes fluttered, cries dying down, his mouth opening and closing. Searching._

_“He’s hungry.” Nux said, peering down at him. His soft pink skin was so vibrant against Slit’s clay._

_“No shit.” Slit muttered, and he jerked his chin toward the Kennel Master. “need’s his milk.”_

_“Gotta warm it up for ‘im.” Nux said as the bottle was slipped from a pocket and into his hands. “can’t just give it to him as is. Shock the little bastard.”_

_“Fuck, I know that.” Slit said, turning his body away from Nux. Walking in a small circle, he jostled the pup carefully in his arms as the cries died down to whimpers and eventually stopped altogether. All three of them watched as the pup nuzzled his face against Slit’s chest and hiccuped, his tiny fists balled under his chin._

_“I’m impressed. Ain’t been able to shut him up all mornin’.” the Kennel Master sniffed._

_“It’s the skin to skin contact.” Nux said quietly, his eyes flickering from the pup to Slit’s face, watching the adoration as it spread across scars and metal._

_“Huh. Well, good luck. You’re gonna need it; that one’s a dud.”_

_Slit shook his head. “Gonna be a Lancer, this one.” he said, his sudden grin pulling the staples in his cheek tight._

_“Nah. Looks like a Driver to me.” Nux had shot back with a grin of his own, and Slit snorted, his thick blunt fingers gently running over the pup’s tiny skull, downy with peach fuzz. “Too chrome for a driver. Look,” and he’d grinned even wider when the pup latched onto a finger and squeezed. “little guy needs a shave already.”_

Nux’s lungs burned as he ran through Citadel, Roscoe at the forefront of his mind. Instinct told him it had to be the pup. He’d never seen Slit more focused than when he was caring for him - Nux had gotten so used to seeing him with the small green sling tied around his neck, Roscoe’s tiny face peering out, that he couldn’t imagine him without it now. Roscoe had dark green eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with a calm that belied his age. Unlike other pups, Nux got the impression that Roscoe was listening to the conversations going on around him. He was special and everyone knew it. Slit especially.

“Strong and smart.” Slit had said on more than one occasion, and Nux hadn’t the heart to remark about how small he was, how his stomach often refused the Mother’s Milk. How, in the night, Nux rolled over in the bunk and caught Slit with his ear pressed against Roscoe’s chest, holding his breath, his eyes wide and full of worry. Listening for a heartbeat that seemed to weaken every day.

Nux was nearing the Bloodshed now. War boys lined the walls, their faces solemn masks, others looking haggard and worried. Some stared at the ground as Nux slowed to a jog, approaching the steps that led down to the room. Crow, Piston’s driver, lifted his head and caught Nux’s eye. They could hear the shouting and crashing coming from the Shed. Crow shook his head once, slowly, and it confirmed Nux’s fears.

“He broke Jace’s nose.” Crow mumbled, and Nux laid a hand on his shoulder. “didn’t know who else to go to. He’s...well, he’s Slit. And...Roscoe…”

“Thanks for sending Piston.” Nux gave his shoulder a squeeze, still trying to catch his breath. “When…?” but he shook his head, cutting off Crow’s reply. “nevermind.”

“Think he’ll listen to you?” Crow asked, his brow furrowed. They both looked down the steps.

“I’m his driver.” Nux pulled himself up straight and took a deep breath. “he has to.” he walked past Crow and started down the steps, wishing he had as much conviction as he sounded like he did.

The Bloodshed was a mess. Everywhere, overturned drums of guzzoline lay dented and piled on top of one another. Chains for blood bag cages had been torn from hooks in the walls and lay strewn about the floor haphazardly. Nux marvelled open mouthed at a cage that lay overturned on it’s side, it’s door ripped clean off, bars bent inward. Even in his rage, Slit had had the presence of mind to use tools to extract his vengeance - systematic dismantling. He was just lucky that no war boys had been getting transfusions today.

“Oi!” it was the Organic, waving Nux over. He was sweating, the ever present toothpick between his yellow teeth soggy from use. He took it out and pointed at Nux with it, angrily, his face screwed up in frustration.

“Control your fucking lancer.” he spit, jerking his chin past them toward the wheel wall. Nux could see Slit stalking back and forth between the shadows and streams of light. “or he’s about to be in very deep shit.”

Purposely damaging the Immortan’s property was a death sentence and every war boy knew it. Nux sighed. “Look. He lost his pup today.”

The Organic turned his head and spat. “Think I give a shit? He tore the door off one of my cages. _Tore. It. Off._ ”

“We can fix it, and we will. You know that.” Nux was trying not to plead, trying to stay calm. He had to make the Organic see reason. “just let me talk to him. But get out of here.” he watched unease flicker across the Organics face as he weighed his options.

Finally, he shook his head and sighed, gesturing around the room with the toothpick. “Clean this shit up.” he leaned close to Nux and gave him a look. “fast.”

Nux nodded and watched as the Organic wedged the toothpick back between his lips and took the steps two at a time, shaking his head the whole way. He let loose a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d bought Slit time. Turning, he started toward the wheel wall.

Slit was undone. He stood before the wheels, his fists clenched at his sides, shaking. His clay was nearly wiped clean from sweat and Nux could see his pink flesh through the streaks. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, his eyes burning with rage, teeth bared. Nux thought of the great beasts he’d seen as a pup in the History People’s picture books and swallowed thickly.

“Slit.” he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, making his voice calm and quiet. “It’s just me. Easy.”

An emotion that Nux couldn’t quite recognize flickered over Slit’s face before it was washed out by anger. Standing in front of him, this close, Nux noticed his hands. The knuckles were torn open and bleeding profusely. He stared at the flaps of skin hanging from them and brought his eyes up to Slit’s.

“How bad’s the other guy?”

Slit shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Jace knew better.” his voice was raw as though he’d been screaming.

“That ain’t from breakin’ Jace’s nose.” Nux said carefully.

“Nah.” Slit flexed his fingers, re-opening the wounds and starting a fresh trickle of blood. “Not Jace.” and it was then that Nux noticed the walls.

All around them were smears of blood on the stone, most of them in the perfect shape of a fist. Nux knew his lancer had a legendary pain tolerance. He was more kamikrazy than the best of them - but his stomach still roiled at the thought of him driving his knuckles into the wall until they broke upon the stone. He looked back at Slit’s face and felt his insides twisting in sympathy - had he ever known a pain like this?

“Slit.” Nux took a tentative step forward. “you...your hands are probably fuckin’ _broken_ , mate.” he took another step, slowly, keeping his eyes on Slits face. “Lemme look at ‘em, at least.” when Slit didn’t respond, he reached forward to gently cradle one of them in his own. “yeah?”

Slit moved with lightning speed, grabbing Nux by the shoulders and slamming him hard against the wall. He brought a forearm across Nux’s throat and pressed hard, and slammed his other fist into the stone beside his head with a primal roar.

“Slit..!” Nux choked out, struggling against the stronger man. He drew his chin up as high as he could, sucking in air. “Listen to me. I know it’s Roscoe. I know you’re hur--”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” Slit screamed into his face. “You don’t know _shit!_ ”

Nux glared despite his breaking heart. “I know you miss him. I know you feel like it’s your fault.” he winced as Slit drew his arm back, pressing on. “but it’s not, Slit. _It ain’t your fault._ ”

Seconds ticked by as the two boys stared one another down. Slit’s chest heaved, his fist shaking where he held it in the air. Slowly, he lowered his arm, staring with wide eyes brimming with tears into Nux’s face, all of the anger falling away. “Yeah it is.” he choked out.

“No,” Nux pulled gently on his forearm as he slowly released the pressure. “It’s not, Slit. It’s just the way things happen sometimes. It ain’t fair, but it’s nobody's fault.” Slit let his arm drop.

“He was gonna be a lancer.” he murmured into the air between them, his voice numb. He blinked, and a tear rolled down through the clay and sweat on his face, disappearing between the staples in his cheek. In all their years growing up together and driving the roads as war boys, Nux had never seen Slit cry. Not once. He’d often wondered if he was even capable of it.

“You did everything you could.” Nux said. “He was just…” he struggled with the words, trying hard to suppress his own sadness. “he was so sick, Slit. So _small._ ”

Slit was staring into space, lost in his sorrow, unseeing. “I could’a done more. I should’ve taken him to the Organic sooner.” his words tumbled out of his mouth, gathering speed. “Wouldn’t take his bottle yesterday, was hot, his forehead...he didn’t, he, I couldn’t --”

Nux took Slit’s face in between his hands and shook him gently. “Slit.” he brushed his thumb under an eye, collecting a teardrop. “ _No._ ”

Slit’s face crumpled. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears pooled out of them, fat and round and rolling wetly down his cheeks. Nux caught him as he slumped against him, his face pressed into his chest, knees giving out on him. “I gotcha, mate. S’ok, s’ok.” Nux held him as he lowered them both to the ground. Slit’s arms came up and wrapped around Nux as though he were his only lifeline, gripping him hard, pressing himself as tightly as he could against him as he finally let his sobs loose.

Nux leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, fighting his own tears, swallowing over and over again past the thickening lump in his throat. He held Slit as his body quaked against him, simultaneously in awe and horrified that he was privy to such raw emotion. He had seen Slit angry enough that he’d nearly killed other war boys in the Pits, his rage a terrifying spectacle. He’d seen him grinning like a fiend from the lancer’s perch, jubilant and manic with excited happiness. Never seen him scared, never seen him ashamed, guilty or doubtful. Definitely never seen him cry.

It was deeply hard to watch.

Slowly, eventually, Slit gathered hold of himself. Nux listened as his breathing lost it’s tremble and evened out and he relaxed against him. After a moment he shifted and sat up, looked at Nux briefly. He dragged an arm across his face, wiping at his swollen eyes and runny nose. “What am I gonna do with this?” he whispered, his breath stuttering, and Nux watched as he pulled a crumpled up wad of green fabric out of a pocket. Roscoe’s sling. He balled it in a fist and pressed it against his face.

“Use it for the next pup.” Nux said softly against the top of his head.

“Won’t go through it again.” Slit shook his head. “I ain’t....” he set his jaw. “I ain’t cut out for it. ‘Sides, hands are fuckin’ broken now anyway. Useless.” he dropped the sling.

“Bullshit.” Nux reached around the bulk of Slit’s body and gently took his hands in his own, turning them so the blood on his knuckles caught the light. “They might be broken, but when’s the last time you bailed ‘cause of a broken bone? They’ll heal.” Slit was quiet as he watched Nux slowly running the pads of his fingers along the top of his hands. “You’re my lancer. I _need_ these hands.”

“I couldn’t even keep ‘m alive, Nux.” Slit’s voice was hardly a whisper.

Nux closed his eyes, opened them. Letting go of Slit’s hands, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed.

“Kept him alive for weeks. He’s gone, Slit, ‘cause he was sick. It was gonna happen no matter what. But you gave him a life. You gave him a chance. That’s…” he had to pause. “that’s a hell of a lot more than anyone else gave him.”

_It was quiet on top of Citadel. The crops blew sweet smelling air toward Slit where he sat at the edge, legs dangling over, and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply._

_“Smell that, Roscoe?” Slit gently jostled the tiny pup in his arms, wrapped in his soft green sling. Bright green eyes looked out over the endless sea of sand, blinking wide in the moonlight. “that’s green. Maybe someday you’ll get to eat some.” he smiled at the pups cooing. “Think it tastes like shit myself, but who knows.”_

_The two were quiet as the wind blew gently and the usual sounds traveled up from Citadel, hushed among the dirt and greenery. The peace didn’t last long before Roscoe squirmed in his sling, his tiny face bunching up in the beginnings of a crying fit. He got an arm free and flailed it angrily, frustrated whimpers bubbling up from his throat._

_“Hey, hey. None ‘a that now.” Slit hushed him, bouncing him in his arms. Roscoe continued to whimper, face red, his little mouth opening up as the first cries burst out. He kicked his legs in the sling as a fat tear rolled down one cheek._

_“What I say ‘bout this shit?” Slit wiggled him free of the sling and cast a look over both his shoulders. “you gonna make me embarrass myself again?” Roscoe stuck his bottom lip out and it trembled as he hiccuped around a sob, his eyes watery as they looked into Slits._

_Slit sighed. “You’re gonna kill me.” he muttered, and after another surreptitious glance around them he placed Roscoe on his knee and began to sing._

_Slit’s voice was rough and hard, much like the man himself. There was nothing smooth or motherly about him. No soft hair for a pup to tangle it’s fists in, no lilting voice to carry a lullaby on, but Roscoe’s crying stilled and his eyes widened as the words washed over him. They may have came from a mouth split jagged and fierce, stapled and sewn, but it was the only voice Roscoe knew. The only voice that told him stories, described what a Thunderstick was. Told him about Walhalla and nitro and how to find your way by the stars. The first and only voice to tell him he was the shiniest thing Slit had ever laid his ugly eyes on. The little pup pumped his arms excitedly, a garbled stream of happy gibberish flooding out of his mouth._

_Slit laughed. “You like that huh?” Roscoe stuck his hand in his mouth and sucked happily on his fingers. “don’t tell Nux.” he snorted as he tucked the pup back in his sling, securing his little body against the lowering temperatures._

_Roscoe cooed and nuzzled his body against Slit’s chest, one tiny hand coming up and closing around his skin in a fist. Slit looked down at him for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He lifted a hand and stroked a calloused finger down the side of his cheek and Roscoe’s eyes fluttered closed._

_“Yeah.” he grinned. “you’re alright, kid. You’re alright.”_

It was quiet in the Bloodshed. Outside, the sun had begun to set and the streams of light through the carved windows were growing fainter. The blood on Slit’s knuckles had dried to a hard crust and Nux watched him studying them, turning them this way and that. He thought of everyone outside, wondering what magic he had used to talk sense into his lancer. An image of Jace with a broken nose flashed through his mind and he snorted, shaking his head.

“What’s funny?” Slit mumbled from where he was tucked under his chin, his body slumped and drained.

“Nothing. Really.” Nux sobered. “I just...ya gotta apologise to Jace.” he cut off Slit’s protestations with a gentle noise. “eventually.”

“Guess so.” Slit sat up and turned, looking at Nux.

“You ain’t gonna tell anyone, that I…” his eyes flickered to the floor. “you wouldn’t, right?”

Nux tilted his head and regarded him. “Shit. You think I’d do that?”

A barely perceptible tension eased out of Slit’s shoulders and he smiled, very small. “Nah.”

“Gotta fix this though.” Nux said, and Slit knew he was talking about the mess. “we got time, but…” and he stood up, reaching a hand out to help Slit. The bigger man swayed on his feet for a moment, emotional exhaustion taking it’s toll. Nux laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, searching his face.

“You good?”

They both knew the answer. As far as questions went it was a redundant one, but Slit loved him for it, appreciated the attempt at normalcy, the gesture. Nux might have been the biggest pain in his ass but he gave a shit. He cared. Slit hated to admit when he needed anything, but he needed that right now.

He needed it a lot.

The two of them started toward the door when Slit stopped. He looked down at Roscoe’s sling wadded up in his hands and slowly unwrapped it, spreading the fabric between his fingers. Nux looked back and stopped to watch him. There was a question in his eyes, and Slit answered it by tearing the sling in half with a loud rip. Gritting his teeth around the pain in his hands, he brought the sling to his neck and wound it around once, twice. He secured it at the base of his throat with a simple knot, his fingers stilling, their work done.

Dropping his hands back down by his side, he took a deep breath and looked at Nux. 

“Let’s go.” he said.

It was going to be OK.


End file.
